


You'd Think a CHiP Could Protect Himself

by Gabrielangel13



Category: CHiPs (TV)
Genre: Actually the whole things pretty bad, Gen, Just some quick Emergency appearances, Kidnapping, Old Fandom, Poorly written chase scenes, Robbery, sorrynotsorry, speed-writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielangel13/pseuds/Gabrielangel13
Summary: Got bored and I'm on a CHiP's marathon, so I wrote this. Pretty quickly written, I was mostly vomiting ideas onto a page and decided it's an old fandom, maybe I'll get a few hits on it, maybe I won't. I have almost zero knowledge of police procedure, so please forgive inaccuracies. Anyway...CHP has a 2-11 (robbery) suspect that's eluded them several times, and it gets personal after Officer Jon Baker nearly wrecks during a chase. Things escalate from robbery, however, and the CHP finds themselves in a heck of a mess. Want a theory into Jon's mysteriously absent sister? Look no further than here!





	You'd Think a CHiP Could Protect Himself

**Author's Note:**

> http://policecodes.org/police-codes-14-99 and https://copradar.com/tencodes/mgeneral.html are what I used for my police codes. Please review, even if you're just flat-out roasting me. If you like it, let me know, I might try to fix it. IDK, it's up to you.

“LA-15, 7-Mary-3, in pursuit of possible 211 suspect, heading east on Interstate 420 past Belmont!” He announced over his wailing sirens as the car in front of him accelerated.   
“10-4, 7-Mary-3. All units in the vicinity of Lexington and Belmont, 7-Mary-3 in pursuit of 211 suspect in blue Chevrolet is heading eastbound on 420. Units responding identify.”   
Jon swerved between cars, checking to make sure the one that skidded onto the shoulder was fine before accelerating to match the suspect’s speed. The blue dodger slid towards the middle lane, nearly upsetting a pickup before the next officer fell in place behind.  
“Good ol’ Baricza!” Jon muttered to himself at the sight of the familiar cruiser. He leaned to the left, let his weight carry him between traffic as he fought to stay behind the car…  
Jon swerved to the side as an LAPD cruiser nearly side-swiped him, sending him careening into the dividing wall with a grimace. “LA-15, 7-Mary-3, inform LAPD car Tango-491 he is out of his jurisdiction. LAPD cruiser Tango-491 has joined pursuit.”   
“10-4, 7-Mary-3.” The radio went silent again. Jon gunned his engine, growling in frustration when he found Baricza three miles ahead, parked on the shoulder.   
“LA-15, Pursuit terminated 4:41 PM.”  
“10-4, 7-Adam. All units be on the lookout…” Jon tuned it out as he dismounted and approached the cruiser jockey.   
“You alright, Jon? Looked like you hit the wall pretty hard.”   
“I don’t know what he was doing on the freeway! I mean, he could have killed me!” Jon growled before shaking his head.   
“7-Mary-3, 7-Adam, 10-19 Central.” The comm. chipped.   
“They’re playing our song. You sure you’re alright?” Jon winced as he mounted his motor, left leg screaming.   
“See you at the station.” Jon flipped on his motor and turned around, not eager to explain this one to Getraer.

“Thank you for your time, firemen.” Getraer was saying as Bear and Jon walked and limped, respectively. A blond and a brunette firemen were leaving the Sergeant’s office, but stopped at the sight of the officers, their medical patches catching attention.   
“Excuse me officer but that’s quite the limp you have there. Mind if we check it out?” Jon flashed his usual smile.   
“No really, it’s just a…”   
“That’s a good idea, DeSoto.” Getraer interrupted, but Jon looked indignant.   
“I’m fine.” He insisted. “I don’t know why everyone’s making such a big deal…” Getraer moved to put a silencing hand on his shoulder.   
“Either the paramedics check you out here, or Cahill drives you to the ER. Your choice, Jon.” He scowled. “Good, we can use my office.” 

Ponch checked in five minutes later to find his partner with his pant leg rolled up to his knee, sporting a purple bruise the entire length of his leg. Baricza and Getraer were growling about something, and two firemen prodded at the blond. “Come on, Jon, I leave you alone for one shift!”   
“DeSoto, Gage, this is my partner, Frank Poncherello.” Jon introduced almost flippantly. Gage was clicking closed a box as DeSoto nodded his acknowledgement.   
“It’s not broken.” Gage announced. “It’s going to hurt for sure, but it should heal on its own, but you should take it easy for a day or two.”  
“Exactly what I wanted to hear.” Jon seethed as he rolled his pant leg down and pulled at his sock.   
“If I was you, I’d be glad your bike hit the wall first. Your leg could’ve easily been a lot worse.”   
“Thank you, gentlemen.” The two nodded in acknowledgment before heading out the door, announcing availability into their radio.  
“What happened to you?” Ponch finally demanded, ignoring Jon’s smile. He used that smile to avoid far too much.   
“LAPD officer thought it would be funny to ram him into a freeway wall. Guess he wanted to play hero or something.” Bear finally supplied.  
“What was LAPD doing on the freeway?”   
“She,” Getraer interrupted, “Is a, quote, ‘overzealous rookie with a chip on her shoulder and a snake in her boot’. Her station manager’s words, not mine. He asked I assure you that her behavior is being dealt with, the severity of her discipline depending mostly on the severity of Jon’s injury. Take the rest of the day off, Grossman can cover your beat.”  
“Yeah, but Sarge…”   
“And tomorrow too, Jon.” Getraer interrupted. “I wan t you back at your best, not limping like a kicked puppy.” Ponch snickered, and Jon rolled his eyes.   
“Francis Poncherello!” The bellowing voice of a midget called out. “What did you do to my motor? After I just finished fixing your last mishap? Back from the seminar for all of a day and…”  
Ponch raised his hands in surrender. “Harlan, I just got back! You have to be thinking of Baker’s bike!”The mechanic’s eyes widened half in shock, half in anger. The 5’10” blond sank a little lower.   
“I expect this of him.” He spat. “I thought you were better than that, Baker.”  
“Sorry, Harlan.” Jon winced when he put pressure on his leg.   
“Poncherello, make sure Baker makes it home in one piece.”   
“Yes, sir.” 

“I’m just saying, five robberies in a week by a blue Chevy with illegible plates? They’ve got to have an inside man somewhere!” Ponch muttered around his cheeseburger.   
“It seems like a blitz tactic. I’m worried they’re gonna skip town soon.”   
“All units in the vicinity of Vermon and Norwood, possible 211 in progress. Suspect was last seen fleeing north towards the Freeway in a blue Chevy. Units responding identify.” Ponch took one last sad look at his barely touched burger before following his partner towards their bikes.  
“7-Mary-3 and 4 responding.”   
“10-4, 7-Mary-3 and 4.”  
“Officer, wait!” Jon jumped at the hand on his shoulder as they prepared to push off. A man stood there, panting heavily. “It’s my daughter, she got her hand stuck in a storm grate and I can’t get her out. She says she can’t feel her fingers…”  
“LA-15, 7-Mary-3, 10-22 last transmission. Possible 11-47, 7-Mary-3 responding.”  
“10-4, 7-Mary-3. 7-Mary-4, proceed to Freeway 139 for possible 211 intercept.”  
“10-4, LA.” Jon reved his engine into gear. “Where?”   
“Third street, please hurry!” The man urged. Jon pealed out

“Six times in just over a week, this is getting ridiculous!” Ponch snapped and smacked his handlebars. “LA 15, 7-Mary-4 requesting a 20 on 7-Mary-3.”   
“Mary-4, Mary-3 is 10-7A for a uniform change.”  
“LA, have 7-Mary-3 10-25 at Micheline’s Jewelry when 10-8.”  
“10-4, Mary-4.” 

“Thank you for your time, sir. I promise, we’ll catch this guys.” Ponch felt weird questioning the victims without Jon, and even stranger promising to catch crooks they’d failed to apprehend six times. What if they didn’t now, what if… “LA-15, 7-Mary-4 requesting a 10-20 on Mary-3.”   
“10-4, 7-Mary-4.” The line went silent as he mounted his motor and strapped his helmet into place. “7-Mary-4, 7-Mary-3 10-46 on I-10.”  
“LA, can you repeat, I-10?”   
“10-4, Mary-4. I-10.”   
“Have 7-Mary-4 contact me on channel 3 at earliest convenience.” Frank shook his head, instincts angry. “LA 15, 10-20 on S-4 for a 10-25.”   
“7-Mary-4.” Silence. “S-4 is 10-7 at central. 10-4 on 10-25” Ponch kicked his stand up and gunned his motor. Something wasn’t right.

“I’m telling you, sarge, Jon can’t get to Michiline’s from his apartment with I-10, there’s no point in him being there! I requested a meet over 90 minutes ago, and requested radio contact over ten. It shouldn’t be taking this long!”  
“Don’t you think if he was in trouble, he wouldn’t be checking in with dispatch?” Getraer countered, but the two still found themselves inside the dispatcher’s building. “I would like to hear 7-Mary-3’s last transmission please.”   
“Yes, sir.” She moved to the archives, coming back quickly with the audio tape.   
“LA-15, 7-Mary-3 10-46 on I-10.” Ponch leaned over and hit the pause.   
“I heard it too, Frank. That’s not Jon’s voice.” The dispatcher’s eyes went wide.   
“I’ll but out a B.O.L.” She started towards a mic, but Getraer stopped her.   
“Whoever is impersonating Jon, we have to assume has constant access to his radio. We don’t want to tip him off.”   
“I have Officer Baker on my channel.” Pam flipped a switch to put her CB on speaker. It crackled a moment later it crackled to life.  
“LA-15, 7-Mary-3 10-24.”  
“Remind him to call Ponch, channel 3.”   
“10-4, Mary-3. 10-39 7-Mary-4, channel 3.”   
“10-4, LA.” Ponch slid into a seat as one of the dispatchers motioned, taking up the beeping radio.  
“7-Mary-3, go ahead Ponch.” Getraer clenched his jaw. That definitely was Jon’s voice.  
“You missed our last meet, partner. Getraer’s gonna have your hide for letting me do follow ups alone. You available for a 10-25?”  
“Negative, Mary-4. I-20 rush hour traffic.” Getraer leaned closer.   
“10-101 is a California only code, Ponch. Only our officers would know what it means.” He hissed. Ponch nodded.  
“ You 10-101, Baker?”   
“10-79, Ponch.” He signed off of the channel with a hiss a moment later, but the other dispatcher’s speaker rang out next. “7-Mary-3, 10-92, Freeway off ramp to Herford.”  
“I want patched in to Baker’s radio.” Getraer ordered. “Herford isn’t on the I-20.”   
“I’ve never heard of Herford, but it could be hint.” Getraer nodded.  
“Tell 7-Adam, 7-Charles and Mary-5 to meet me at the station on the double.” Getraer ordered, herding Frank towards the exit. “Hope you didn’t have plans, Frank.”   
“Not anymore, Sarge.” 

“It’s essential we don’t let them know we’re onto them.” Getraer concluded, glancing at the five officers in the room. “It’s essential we do whatever we can to keep Jon in touch with his radio and in communication. They have knowledge of scanner codes, but not our CHP codes. We know that it was not Jon on the radio for over two hours today, and they do not have extensive knowledge of the freeway maps. The other officers will be briefed in the morning, but we need to get a start on this now. Assume anything said over the radio, the kidnappers have heard.”   
“I’ll radio and tell Jon I’ve finished the paperwork, he can head straight home. That’ll give us a night of plausible deniability.” Getraer nodded, pushing his radio towards Ponch. He took a deep breath.   
“7-Mary-3, 7-Mary-4. Do you copy?” It was painfully silent, and Sindy’s face dropped considerably.   
“7-Mary-4 I read.” Jon’s voice sounded strained.   
“Hey, partner!” Ponch mentally kicked himself for sounding too excited. “You driving like an old man or what? Say, paperwork’s finished, Sarge said not to bother coming in.”  
“10-4, Ponch. LA-15, 7-Mary-3 10-42.”  
“10-4, 7-Mary-3.”   
“He sounds bad.” Grossie finally broke the silence. “But he’s alive. You said he mentioned Herford?”  
“Yeah, you’ve heard of it?” Getraer slid his maps around, motioning to the I-20.”  
“I don’t remember where. I don’t think it’s a town…”Grossman shrugged. “Sorry guys, I don’t know.”   
“Grossie, you and Bear go over the maps. Ponch go get some rest in the break room. We’re going to keep this between us until we know more, understood?”  
“But Sarge…”  
“No but’s, Frank. You’re too upset to function properly at the moment, and we have no idea why Jon was targeted. Until we’re sure you’re not going to disappear too, you’re staying where we can keep an eye on you.”   
“Sergeant, someone should contact Jon’s family.” Ponch’s eyes were soft with rarely-seen emotion. “I think I should go see Laura.” Getraer hesitated, but nodded.  
“Cahill, you and Ponch go see the family. I’ll send Officer Clark to run protective detail. But you bring him straight back here, understood?”   
“Do you expect me to run, Sergeant?” Ponch joked, but the older man didn’t meet his gaze. “Come on, Getraer, I’m not stupid!”   
“No, but you are a liability and I will book you if that’s what I think it takes, Poncherello!” Getraer snapped, straightening up to his full height. “I’m missing one of our finest officers, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose another one because of a hotheaded stunt, Frank. You have your assignments, dismissed.”

Getraer sank at his desk with a sigh as the officers filed out. Jon wasn’t just a good officer, he was the best, and he was a friend. If he didn’t make it…  
“It’s a risk we all take, Joe.” He muttered to himself, double-checking to ensure the door was locked. Just because it could happen, didn’t mean it should, he reminded himself as he picked up his receiver and dialed.   
“LAPD Central Offices, this is Charlotte, how can I help you?”   
“I need to speak with Captain Olsen.”  
“Captain Olsen is in a meeting at the moment…”  
“Tell him Joe Getraer is on the line, it’s urgent.” The line went silent for several seconds.  
“What’s going on, Joe? Lead on the 2-11?”   
“Are you alone?” Getraer demanded. He waited until the other station manager confirmed it. “One of my officers is missing, James. Someone with knowledge of California scanner codes took him.”  
“And you’re accusing my station?” The other man’s voice was cold and defensive.  
“No, no James. I’m just…covering my bases. It’s Baker, James. He went missing this afternoon, but we can’t put out a BOL or they’ll know we’re on to them.”   
“So you want me to observe my officers for anything out-of-the-ordinary.”  
“Exactly.”   
There was a sigh. “Who’s missing?”  
“Baker.” The line was silent.  
“Damned good officer, and a better person from what I can tell. I understand your concern, I’ll keep this between station managers and run observation.”   
“Thank you, James.”   
“Hey, I owe Baker a couple a favors anyway. Keep me informed.” Joe rubbed a growing tension headache away from his temples as he started out the door for some coffee. It was going to be a long night.

“It’s about time, Jonathan Andrew! Do you have any idea how long Wes has been waiting…” She trailed off as she yanked the door open. “Who are you?”  
“Ponch?” Wes moved to stand by his mother. The two officers looked to the floor. “Mom, this is Officer Poncherello, Uncle Jon’s partner.” Her eyes widened slightly.  
“Is he…”   
“He’s alright, he’s just missing.” Ponch reassured, although it may have been more for himself than for her. “We’re not sure why. This is Bonnie Clark, she’s a CHP officer, and our Sergeant felt it was a good idea for her to hang around for a while. Just in case.”   
“He’s in that much trouble?”   
“Jon always said you were sharp Laura. I’m afraid it’s not looking good.” Ponch admitted, rubbing a hand through his hair.   
“We’re going to get Jon back ma’am, I promise. Until then, however, we do have to keep you in protective custody. Wes isn’t going to be able to attend school tomorrow,” Bonnie chose to ignore his fist-bump in the background. “and you’re both going to have to stay with me.” Laura nodded, moving so Bonnie could come inside.   
“Poncherello.” She called calmly as the man started to follow Cahill. He turned back to find her leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t know what he’s told you about us, but Jon is still my little-brother. Bring him back in one piece, okay?”  
Ponch didn’t hesitate. “We will.” 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re up to but…”   
“This is the last time I tell you Baker, shut your mouth!” She rubbed her hand through her dirty-blond hair, glaring down at the handcuffed officer. “It’s your fault you know. If you hadn’t gotten me suspended, I could’ve dealt with this whole thing without you.”   
“I’m thinking they’re going to do a little more than a suspension when they see you next, Sierra.” The woman growled, hurling the bottle she’d been toying with at him hard enough for it to crack against his shoulder before hitting the ground.   
“You’re just lucky the cops are idiots, Baker.” The man standing to his right growled. “And you must not be much special if you’ve been missing all night without raising a fuss.”   
“Actually the opposite, Mason.” Sierra corrected, leaning back in her stool. “Ol’ Jonny-boy’s a great cop, no one would suspect him of running off or doing anything wrong. Poncherello? Oh he’s a screw-up even LAPD wouldn’t put up with.”   
“How are you excusing me from morning briefing?” Jon finally ventured.   
“We didn’t. Your Lieutenant ordered you to cover the Bakersfield route early before we could call it in.” She turned to address her crew of three men. “We’ve got four hours, let’s go over the plan one more time…”

“Herford!” Grossie blurted suddenly, clutching Getraer’s arm with a wide-eyed, panicked expression that could only come with sleep deprivation and coffee.   
“I thought I told you to switch with Bear two hours ago!” Twelve hours into the search and Grossie looked ready to drop.   
“I know what it is! I know where Herford is!” Getraer and Lieutenant Bates nearly tripped over themselves with a sudden eagerness.   
“Where?!” They demanded almost simultaneously.   
“It’s a mom-and-pop restaurant maybe thirty minutes from here! They have killer pie…”  
“Focus, Grossman. Can you find me an address?”   
Grossie cracked a smile. “Give me two minutes.” He said as he reached for a phone.

Jon peered through the crack in the wooden wall for the umpteenth time, barely making out the Herford’s sign across the road. His head was spinning, his shoulders ached, and his ribs burned. If Ponch didn’t hurry up…  
No, Central would find him. They watch out for their own.   
“All units in the vicinity of Gelwan and Richardson, 2-11 in progress, blue Chevy, partial plate Tang-Irma. Units responding identify.” His radio announced.   
“Tell him we’re heading west on Creighton!” the radio on the countertop ordered. The man, Mason he thought, but his head was burning, clutched one of his pinned arms and pulled him into an upright position.   
“Just do as we say, copper.” Jon narrowed his eyes into a glare, but he didn’t struggle as the mic was shoved back into his face.   
“LA-15, 7-Mary-3. 10-78 in pursuit of 2-11 suspect, heading west on Creighton. Code 209-B.” He hoped and prayed Sierra hadn’t put 209 on the list of codes he wasn’t allowed to say.   
“Confirm, Mary-3, 209-B?”  
“10-4.” Jon winced as the mic was torn away and he was shoved backwards against the ground. With his hands pinned behind his back, he could only wince as he bounced against the ground.   
“What was that? What’s a 209-B?” He demanded, kicking at his side when he didn’t immediately respond.   
“A 2-11 is a robbery, a 10-78 is a request for backup. 209-b is a…request to relay information to all officers.”  
“7-Mary-3, remain on channel 1.”  
Jon hesitated when the man pressed the mic back in his face, but a slam to his cheek loosened his tongue. “10-4, LA.” He forced a sarcastic smile as he spit the red out of his mouth. “See? Now I’m primary.” 

“You’re sure this is the right place, Sergeant?” Bear insisted, pulling up beside the officer.   
“Jon just called in a 209-b, that’s gotta be their endgame!” insisted. “That means most of the crew is gone now, it’s probably only one or two people in there with him.”   
“He’s right, Lieutenant.” Getraer reminded the younger man. “Now would be the best time to strike.”  
“I agree, but strike where?”   
“Come on, Baker, give us a sign.” Ponch urged under his breath.

Miller was in the other room, when Jon caught sight of the officers through the crack in the wall. At first he thought he was imagining it, or that his vision was too blurry to be sure, but he was certain now it was a group of CHP officers on the other side of his street. Grossman must have recognized Herford.  
Despite the nausea movement raised, Jon half-crawled, half-rolled to his bike. Finding the ignition with hands behind his back was almost impossible. Almost.  
He nearly cried with relief as his fingers wrapped around the key. He turned it a single click before turning around, taking a moment to let his vision clear before bringing his foot around to the switch on the dash.   
His head wanted to die when his sirens filled the air and his lights lit up, but he still pressed his foot against the horn and kicked it as many times as he could…  
Until something hit him in the stomach, and it went silent all at once. 

“I think we know where.” Ponch pointed to the decrepit wood “building”, if it could still be called that.   
“Subtle, Baker.” The group revved their engines. “Take the back, Baricza!” He ordered as they shot towards the front entrance, ignoring any thoughts of a silent attack. Jon sure knew how to catch attention, at least for the six seconds it lasted. 

“Police, drop your weapon!” Getraer was proud of how rarely his men reported drawing their weapons, but today he didn’t care. The brute of a man held a very angry Officer Baker’s handcuffed arm with one hand, the other held his sidearm just behind the officer’s ear.   
“I’ll shoot him! I promise I’ll do it!” The brute roared, eyeing the radio on the counter.   
“It’s over, they caught your buddies in the chevy.” Lieutenant Bates bluffed. “You’re all alone. Let’s give it up now before anyone gets hurt.”  
“You’re lying.” The man insisted, shoving the gun harder against Jon’s head, who managed to flinch away slightly. “We would have heard it!”   
“We figured it almost immediately.” Ponch shot back. “Why do you think Jon was constantly excused from everything? We’ve controlled every report you’ve heard, genius.”   
“It doesn’t matter.” He insisted, twisting so that Baker covered more of him. “You can’t shoot me without hitting him, that puts me in charge here.”   
“Not quite. Put your gun on the floor and hands in the air.” Baricza pressed his pistol against the back of his head. “If your finger so much as twitches towards that trigger, I will end you.” The man hesitated as if thinking about it a second longer before pulling his gun away and lowering it to the floor. “That’s what I thought.” Baricza growled as Fritz moved to cuff him. The suspect shoved Baker hard, but Getraer steadied him.   
“LA-15, 7-Charles. 7-Mary-3 10-106. 10-52 at our location.” Cahill ordered into Jon’s motor before moving back to secure the weapon.  
“Baker, you hear me?” Ponch demanded as he unlocked the cuffs and tried to ignore how heavily his partner leaned on the sergeant.   
“Took you long enough.” Jon coughed out. “Get these cuffs off me, would ya?”   
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.” Ponch retorted, handing off the handcuffs to Lieutenant Bates. “Let’s get him outside, Sarge.”   
“Yeah.” The air was stuffy and smelled of cheap cigars and booze, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Jon winced as the two officers placed hands on his shoulders. “Jon, can you tell me what happened?”   
“There wasn’t a little girl with her hand stuck. The 11-47 was a setup.” Jon muttered.   
“Ponch.” Sindy was holding Jon’s belt at the entrance to the building. Reluctantly, Ponch turned to get it.   
“Seems like a lot of work to use you as a decoy.” Getraer observed. He couldn’t help but feel something besides a few new bruises and a dirty uniform was off about Jon.  
“This was their big one, they were gonna skip town after this. Officer Sierra DuPont from LAPD was their accomplice until I got her suspended. That’s how we failed to catch them every time, we never had good leads.” Jon explained.   
“What about you? Are you alright?” Jon shrugged, shaking his head.   
“A little banged up is all. The ambulance is overkill.” He replied.   
“Just to be safe, okay.” Getraer assured before turning back towards the struggling kidnapper.   
“Baker!” Getraer barely turned in time to avoid being pummeled by the collapsing officer. Other CHiPs were there in an instant, helping to lower him to the ground.   
“I’m alright…”  
“Alright my foot, Baker.” Ponch growled. “Where’s that ambulance?!”

It was a week later when Laura Miller opened the door to the blond officer. Normally now was when she would storm off into the kitchen, refusing to say a word until he and Wes left. His eyes were locked on his shoes, defeated. “Hey Laura.”  
“Jon.” Her voice was cold as she took in her taller brother. His shoulders were hunched rather than their usual ramrod straightness, his left arm suspended in a sling. He had a bandage across his left cheekbone and one on the right side of his jaw, but his split lip and bruising around his right eye and cheekbones were obvious. He favored his left leg when he stood, and his eyes lacked their sharpness. “Wes is out with friends tonight. You should have called.”   
“I didn’t think you’d answer.” It sounded painfully close to a sob, and tugged at her heartstrings. She remembered Wes telling her about his motorcycle accident a year ago, how he’d been straight back on patrol the second he was able. That was Jon, always sacrificing for others. She’d heard about that one from Wes after the fact, and had managed to at least pretend she’d rationalized away the guilt of not seeing him. “Just uh…have Wes call me, okay?” Jon gave an awkward wave before turning away.   
“Jon?” She blurted without thinking. Dammit, now she was committed to being civil for the first time since they left Wyoming. “Why don’t…” She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re okay.”   
Jon gave one of his half-smiles. The dang boy was just as good at using his looks now as when he was a kid. “I’ll see ya, Lala.” Laura clicked the door closed before plopping into a chair by the nightstand. Hesitantly, she slid open the drawer and pulled out the photograph she’d tucked there.  
It was her and Jon at her wedding, Jon in a rare Tuxedo and her in all white. She smiled at the younger man beside her, for a second considering running after the injured man she’d let leave. They could recover, they could rebuild their relationship or…  
She slammed the photograph back in the drawer and shoved it closed sharply. She didn’t need someone else to leave her alone like Timothy. If and when Jon left the force and admitted he should’ve bailed the draft, she would forgive him. Until then, Jonathan Andrew Baker was on his own.   
And Laura Baker-Miller would never admit pushing him away shattered her soul.


End file.
